Delusions and Despair
by Willowcloud
Summary: Although Harry defeats Voldemort, he does not go to Hogwarts. This story is centered on Akantha Rosier, a Hogwarts student, but when she starts experiencing odd symptoms, she must save herself before the illness destroys her-or she destroys herself.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that's all J.K. Rowling**

**A/N: This is a fanfiction by my friend and I. We'll both be writing parts of it – she'll be writing more from Draco's PoV, whereas I will be writing most of the main plot line. She'll be editing it, but we're always open to having someone else be a beta as well. **

**We're not yet sure how often this will be updated, but expect at least a chapter a week, although chapter sizes may be inconsistent. **

It is a cool summer day in late June, as summer days go, and the eleven year old Akantha Rosier is happily perched on a tree trunk with a book. Her parents wouldn't approve of the book - it was a silly muggle fantasy book - but she has long ago decided that her parents' opinions matter little to her. Since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, they have merely been little whimpering fools who feel like they must lecture their daughter. Mum sometimes punishes her if she is caught with anything muggle related, but it isn't a threat that bothers the young soon-to-be witch. A breeze gusts through the air, resulting in several leaves getting in her hair, and so she looks up right as an owl flies by, heading in the direction of her house. Akantha's eyes zero in on the owl - could it be? She begins to scramble down the tree excitedly, then catches herself. No, she must go down slowly, dignified. After all, she is a Rosier.

She is a slight girl, slender and short. Her razor-straight black hair reaches her back, but is shorter to frame her catli. Thin wisps frame her head, like a halo of darkness. While her eyes seem normal enough, upon closer examination, they are an eerie shade of blue and brown - almost a hazel, but with blue instead of green. Perhaps even odder, they angle upwards, making the young girl look as though she's a cat. Throughout the whole time, a constant smirk has been on her face, claiming that Akantha always knows more than you do. After a quick glance at her book lying on the ground, she picks it up and throws it under the tree before sprinting off, arms flailing wildly as she races towards the house.

"Did the letter get here?" Akantha says in a bored tone that just barely masks her eagerness. A woman, Akantha's mum Iriel, appears around the corner, looking irritated.

"Akantha!" She admonishes, "Why, for once, can you not just wait outside when I tell you to? We have guests! Is that any way for a proper young lady to behave?"

"No..." the girl says slowly, a small pout on her face.

"I didn't think so." Looking at Akantha's sad face, she takes pity on her, "But yes, it did just get here by owl."

"I KNEW IT!" Akantha declares ecstatically, "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Where? Can I see it? What does it say? Please, mum?"

The woman sighs, pulling a letter from her pocket, "Calm down and collect yourself, dearest."

Akantha manages to take a few deep breaths, appearing calmer. "Right, mum. I'm better, promise." A large grin breaks out on her face as she starts opening the letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Rosier,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all

necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"I'll be taking you shopping into Diagon Alley soon," Iriel says, "Best to get you your books and other materials as soon as possible, and we also have to send Heliotrope back to Hogwarts to confirm that you'll be attending."

"I don't suppose soon is now?"

Her mum chuckles. "No, but perhaps tomorrow. I'll have to talk to papa, but there isn't that much of a rush. We still have two months."

"Well, yes, but I have to start reading! Imagine the horror if I wasn't prepared for the teachers' questions?" Akantha says shortly.

"Most people aren't; it's certainly not the end of the world if you don't know the answer to every single one. You'll at least be ahead of all of the mudbloods," her mother says with distaste.

"Mum! Would you please stop that?"

Iriel glances up, a blank look in her eyes before she realizes. "Sorry, dear. You know I don't think much of...them."

"Well, it's not their fault," Akantha tells her angrily, "So stop treating them badly because of it. Some of them turn out to be brilliant witches and wizards, you know."

"And some of them aren't. They're ignorant of our ways, they shouldn't be here, invading our land."

"So what, they should just stay confined to their little dark ages? If they can do magic, they should learn how!"

Iriel draws a weary hand across her forehead. "Enough. We have this argument every single day, I swear. Wizards are more advanced. We are better. Muggles and their spawn should stay where they came from - and as for you, you need to stop reading their silly literature! How many times must I tell you?"

"You say enough and then you continue the argument, mother? I'm afraid I don't see how those two things really work." Akantha knows she is antagonizing her mother, and it is quite deliberate, but sometimes some things can't be helped, and this was one of them. Iriel was being completely ridiculous with all of this, and they might as well agree to disagree at this point.

"I didn't continue the argument," her mother says tightly, her mouth at this point an unsmiling line. In contrast, Akantha still has that little smirk on - it's stayed with her this whole time.

"Yes, you did. When you say 'enough' it implies that the conversation is over. At that point, both parties either stop talking or move onto a different subject. You stayed on the same subject. Therefore, you continued the argument after calling it quits."

"Fine. Point taken. NOW enough, or I'm calling your father."

Akantha arches a beautifully curved eyebrow, "Oh no. Not father," she says scathingly, "How dreadfully scary. Both of you have been a disgrace to the name of Rosier, and yet you say I'm the one who's that. Because I don't hate muggleborns - don't make that face, mother, I'm not going to call them mudbloods - then you think that I'm doing something wrong. Well, I'm not!" Her voice has escalated increasingly, her eyes are an icy storm of fury.

Her mother's eyebrows raise dangerously. "Akantha, you will stop this now. This minute. You are going to go too far."

"Damn you and your 'ideals'," Akantha hisses, but it's inaudible. With a swirl of robes, she turns around and flits up the stairs of the house.

Akantha is an early riser, as demonstrated by the fact that she gets up just minutes after the sun does. Promptly, she pulls out a laptop. It is her prize possession - if her parents knew she had it, it would get snatched up in a moment, never to be seen again. Here and there, she's tweaked it so that it has a very basic Internet system. It's slow, and not enough to stream videos, but it' something. She hopes to smuggle it into Hogwarts - maybe there will be a muggleborn who can help her get it running like a proper laptop, not the sad version she has now. She sighs as the computer attempts to load the simply page of what muggles call "Google". Akantha has no idea why muggles call it such, it's such a horrible name that means nothing. However, it's quite a handy website, as it enables to find everything she needs on the Internet. Unfortunately, it doesn't have anything on how to convince your parents that muggles are not the scum of the earth, but she can't have everything, can she?

The moment she hears her mother, the laptop is slammed shut, shoved under the bed, and Akantha springs up to get dressed, lest Iriel say that she's been lazy or criticize her for late risings. Not that her mother was one to talk, but hey, mothers are irrational. Everyone knows that.

Dressed and ready for her day, Akantha bounces down the stairs. "Are we going to Diagon Alley today? I want to get my school supplies as soon as possible so I can start reading the books."

Her mother glances up from a cup of coffee, a scone, and the morning's Daily Prophet. "What's that, dear?"

"I said, can we go to Diagon Alley today?"

"Oh, sure. Just let me finish this article, Rita Skeeter's outdone herself this time."

Akantha rolls her eyes. "Ugh, mum, you're obsessed with that woman. She's just a journalist, for Godric's sake."

In turn, Iriel narrows hers. "We. Do. Not. Use. That. Word. In. This. House."

"It's just a name, jeez!"

"Of an insolent mudblood who didn't know his place," she responds sharply, turning up her nose.

Akantha appears to be debating the wisdom of starting the 'mudblood debate' again, but decides against it, instead contending an awkward silence with her arms crossed over her chest. Against her own will - curiosity is a powerful thing - she beings to read the article.

Boy Who Lived Set to Attend Durmstrang

Harry Potter, the celebrated champion of Good and defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has decided that he will be attending Durmstrang, as opposed to Hogwarts. Durmstrang, a school located in northeast Europe, is notorious for it's "tolerance" of Dark Arts. Students learn the practices, as opposed to mere research, as taught at Hogwarts. Wizards everywhere are astir over the possibility of Harry Potter being the next Dark Lord - perhaps replacing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? It also must be wondered how the Boy Who Lived found out about the school. Muggle-born wizards are typically only contacted by Hogwarts, and no other schools, and while Harry is a half-blood, he was raised by muggles and would normally be treated the same as muggle-borns. It, then, must be wondered - is Durmstrang out to increase it's reputation with the famous wizard as one of its students?

By: Rita Skeeter

She looks at her mother in shock. "He won't be messing up my years at Hogwarts and stealing all my fame?"

Iriel chuckles softly, obviously just humoring her daughter, "No, Akantha. He won't be, but if he's going to Durmstrang, you might have a powerful contender in the Dark Arts."

Akantha scoffs, incredulous. "Him? He's supposed to be a 'good' wizard, isn't he? After all, he defeated Volde-"

"AKANTHA DAWN ROSIER! HAVE YOU NO COMMON SENSE?" her mother demanded, looking as though she expected Voldemort himself to come and jump out at her any second.

"It's still just a name, Mother."

"Of the most powerful wizard of all time, and the most dangerous of them all. He commands respect, and we will give it to him. 'We' happens to include you for as long as you reside under this roof."

"He's just a rotting corpse, now. Not like he can do anything," Akantha huffs.

"But he still has his followers, and shreds of his power. I refuse to let you risk anything with that big of a consequence."

"Fine, fine. Now, are you ready to go to Diagon Alley?"

Iriel smiles, all the tension disappearing from her face. "About that, dearest...your father and I have decided you will be going by yourself. As you'll soon be off alone at Hogwarts, we feel it's best for you to get used to being on your own. That is, if you're okay with it."

Grinning, Akantha nods. She's so tired of her parents always being in her way, and this is finally a step in the right direction. "Will I have to apparate there with you, and you come back, or can I floo there?" She hopes she can floo there - side by side apparation is dreadful.

"You can floo there, no worries," her mother tells her, sensing her dislike of apparation, "Just be careful."

"I know, I know. Don't say diagonally, make sure I end up in Gringotts, avoid looking at the goblins, don't ogle anything...don't worry, mum, we've been through all this before." Akantha says all of this in a bored, almost sleepy tone, only betraying a hint of impatience.

"Never hurts to be careful," Iriel chides, "You know where the floo powder is, go whenever you're ready."

"Uhh, mum? Money would be helpful."

"Oh yes. It might," her mother remembers, standing up and going up the stairs. Akantha stands around for a moment before helping herself to part of the scone and nibbling on it until her mother came back down, a fat purse in her hand.

"Here you are," Iriel says, eyeing the scone in her daughter's hand. "You could've have gotten your own, you know."

"I'm perfectly aware of this. However, I didn't want to," Akantha snaps, retrieving the purse from her mum. "I'll be leaving as soon as I get my robes on," she continues, whirling briskly around and back up the stairs, the purse jingling audibly.

Once in her room, she puts on her pair of casual robes - presentable, but not overly fancy - and pins on the Rosier family brooch to her shoulder. Her face wrinkles as she thought about what to do with her hair. Being eleven (and an eleven year old with very limited magic skill at that) she couldn't do much, but she doesn't wish to appear sloppy. Who knew, she might meet one of her teachers today! Akantha is a firm believer in first impressions, and doesn't want to give the wrong one. Sighing, she set about the task of getting her hair into a french braid and framed her face with a few strands of side bangs. With a last thought, she hastily grabs a brush and puts it in the pocket of one of her robes. The floo system was incredibly annoying in that it had a talent for mussing up one's hair.

With that, she troops downstairs to the fire, grabs a fistful of the floo powder and dumps it in. Moments later, she is in the emerald fire. "Diagon Alley!" she shouts, making a point of enunciating properly. The flames swallow her up, and a few minutes of blurring fireplaces later, she is spat onto the floor of Gringotts, soot over her robes. Hurriedly, she brushes herself off and looks into the smirking face of a young blonde lad, who can't be much older than her. She glars back with instant dislike, staring him down.

**A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is always helpful, and I love to hear feedback. Thanks!**


	2. Diagon Alley

**Hi all! This chapter has been updated as of 5/23/12, since my friend and I got a new idea regarding the story and had to change some bits to accommodate for that. **

The floo network is dreadfully inefficient, Draco thinks. It is so easy to misspeak and lose valuable time trying to correct errors. Much less nauseating than side-along apparition, though. After a brief blur of fireplaces, he has been coughed into Gringotts, and has had only a moment to dust himself off before finding himself face-to-face with a striking girl who can't be much older than he is.

The girl has long, black hair which frames a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, fair skin, and, most strikingly...

Her eyes. They are a rather disturbing shade of blue shot with golden hazel, and slanted so that she looks like a cat. A fringe of thick, dark eyelashes, a knowing smirk, and a lithe, graceful figure complete the effect. She is gorgeous in a radiant, youthful way.

Draco hates her immediately; hates that he's drawn to her. He turns away, thinking of all he has to accomplish...

He checks his mental list: Gringotts, Ollivander's, Madame Malkins, Flourish and Blotts, the Apothecary, Eeylops Owl Emporium. Reorders it: Gringotts, Madame Malkins, Flourish and Blotts, Apothecary, Eeylops, and then Ollivander's. He is already in Gringotts, so it is a simple matter to access the Malfoy vault, something he's done numerous times before, and soon he steps out into the chaos and filth of Diagon Alley.

Some time later, after making some other purchases, he heads towards Madame Malkin's. When he gets to the door step, he notices the girl he encountered in Gringotts. For a brief moment, he contemplates going to Flourish and Blotts first, but quickly scolds himself. Malfoys do not back down from a store simply because someone - albeit a strange someone - is also in the store. With that thought in mind, he stomps through the door, his face showing the slightest bit of frustration. Of course, Madame Malkin immediately turns towards him the moment she sees him, leaving the measurements of the girl to an assistant.

"Mister Malfoy," she says professionally, "How may I help you today?"

"I need my new robes. For Hogwarts," he explains, looking around the room with an air of disapproval, almost as if her work is not satisfactory.

"Ah, of course. Right this way," she says, leading him right next to the young girl.

Biting his lip, he takes his place. If he leans just a centimeter or two to his left, he will be touching her. As if on cue, she looks at him. Not just a fleeting glance from the corner of her eye, hoping to be undetected - she turns those striking eyes towards him, meeting his gaze straight on. No girl anywhere near his age has ever had the courage to meet his eyes like that. Even more shocking, she holds it. Taken aback, he shoots his eyes around the room only to look back in her direction to find her still looking at him, a knowing smirk teasing the corner of her mouth.

Why, that insolent little minx. Acting as if she is better than him, knows more than him. Him, the heir of the house of Malfoy, and her just a bit of dirt on the sole of his shoe. He glares at her, refusing to back down.

"Sir? I need to measure the length of your arm, sir, if you could just hold it out for a moment," Madame Malkin stammers, as if she has been trying to get his attention for a while now. Draco obligingly holds it out without breaking the gaze of the girl. Finally, she looks away, with the tiniest of shrugs.

There we go. Now he can properly introduce himself with the right degree of superiority. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he drawls. "Hogwarts?"

"Akantha Rosier," she tells him after the most annoying of pauses. Oh my god, he thinks, all coherent thoughts going out the window. Her voice. It has to be the most beautiful sound in the world, clear as a bell, flowing like music in just those two words. She continues as if she hasn't noticed his reaction, "I believe we're distant cousins of a sort."

"Uh, ah, yes, I believe we are. Why haven't I met you before, then?" The Rosiers are purebloods, blood purists with generations of Slytherins. He must have met her before, but he would remember her if he had, wouldn't he?

"I've been with relatives in France and Italy for most of my life," she smiles, "I just came to Britain in the last year. I don't believe most of the extended family knows I exist," Akantha finishes thoughtfully.

"How interesting," he says politely, but genuinely meaning it, "Why were you in France and Italy for so long?"

"My mother sent me there as soon as I was born, because of the war. Then my family was split up in the war, and by then, my parents didn't want me to lose my connections with other wizarding families before necessary. I almost ended up going to Beauxbatons, but they brought me here instead."

"So you don't know many people in magical Britain?" Draco asks for confirmation. It seems as though there is an opportunity here, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

Akantha nods, "I know a few, but not many wizards and witches my own age. I've largely been spending time along with books, and the few people I have met I can't say I particularly like," she says, wrinkling her nose.

"I understand completely," he says smoothly.

Her robes are measured. Draco is almost disappointed that this means she will be leaving. She fascinates him, despite that they have only made small talk.

"How lovely. Perhaps you could introduce me to your friends sometime?" she queries politely.

He nods in response, surprised that someone so charismatic as Akantha appears to be asking for help meeting people. "Yes, I'd be happy to. Until then," he says with another short polite nod.

Madame Malkin finishes his robes moments later, but he is in a trance as he pays for them and leaves. Akantha's face looks at him from the back of his eyelids whenever he blinks, and her words keep repeating themselves over and over in his head...

Ugh! Why can't he just get that stupid girl out of his head already? Yes, she appears to actually have a brain, and if she is a Rosier, she has good bloodlines. But she is just a girl of no importance. He is a Malfoy. He has much better things to do than obsess over a girl.

The rest of shopping goes by in a dim haze, except for wand shopping. Draco actually remembers most of that, but it is by far the most exciting part of shopping. Ollivander is the strangest creature; Draco can't see how anyone could spend all of their time on something as boring as wands. Sure, they are important, but exiting? Definitely not.

He floos back to the Manor, eager to get home and spend some time with his thoughts.


	3. Diagon Alley Part 2

** Yes! Two new chapters in as many days! Nevermind school work, writing is much better. **

** This is the rest of Diagon Alley, with a focus on Ollivander's, and then a confrontation with dear Mrs. Rosier. I had to do a good deal of wand research for this chapter – more information on that at the end – and hopefully I didn't get anything wrong. If I did, please let me know!**

**I don't own Harry Potter, that amazing title goes to J.K. Rowling, etc.**

After her confrontation with the young Malfoy, Akantha leaves Madame Malkins without her characteristic smirk. Malfoy has excellent control, but what else is to be expected of the heir of such a noble house? Her control, of course, is better. It will still be difficult to get Malfoy's control to gradually slip. People with control over themselves get control over others quite easily, and Akantha is resolved to not let Malfoy control her, not one bit. She will remain loyal to herself and only herself.

That said and done, she now moves about Diagon Alley with ease, as if she has grown up here. Despite having only been here on a few occasions, she walks smoothly down the cobblestone path, slipping in and out of the crowd gracefully. The first stop, of course, was Flourish and Blotts. Oh, so many books! Books are stacked to ceiling, in every which thickness and color. How anyone could find a specific book here she isn't sure of, but somehow she manages to find all of the books on her checklist. They just pop up when she looks at the title on her checklist. Somehow, Akantha manages to not get almost every book in the store, or even a book not on her checklist. Most of these will be in the school library, anyway.

After Flourish and Blotts, she goes to the Magical Menagerie. Iriel has offered to let her take Heliotrope to school, but Akantha does want a cat. Cats are such wonderful creatures, so graceful and lithe. Nevermind that they might not be as practical as owls; but Hogwarts has owls she can use when necessary. She enters the dark room, passing right by all the exotic pet and heading straight to the cats. A gorgeous cat lets out a small meow right as she glides past it. It is a black little female, with faint dark brown and honey tabby stripes, only visible upon close inspection. Without further decision, she immediately buys her, with only one last stop at Ollivander's left. It's a good thing too, as all the books, cauldrons, and other materials are starting to weight her down tremendously.

As she enters Ollivander's, a sneeze escapes her. It's no wonder, as the entire room is dusty. When her continued sneezing turns the whole room into a dust cloud, a faint voice sounds from the back of the room.

"Tergeo!"

The dust settles down, slightly cleaner then before. "Thank you," she splutters, still choking on dust.

"My apologies for the mess," the soft voice continues, coming closer.

"Not a problem," she lies, "Are you Ollivander? I need a wand."

Suddenly, a man is before her, having stepped out from behind one of the piles of wands. "I've been called that, yes," he says with a wisp of a smile, "First year at Hogwarts?" Akantha nods, and he continues. "Name?"

"Akantha Rosier."

"Ah, how interesting. Some of us in Magical Britain thought the Rosier's daughter would never resurface. Where've you been, all these years?"

"France and Italy," she says warily.

"I see. Pity, the wizarding has missed you and your family. They haven't been very prevalent as of late," Ollivander comments. "Right handed?"

She nods again, and the tape measure whirls about, starting it's intricate dance of measurements.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." (A/N: This part is directly taken from J.K Rowling, all credit to her.)

"What are the differences between the cores?" Akantha asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Better for different kinds of magic, you see," he explains, "Dragon Heartstring is good for flamboyant magic, likes to make a show of things, whereas Phoenix Feather results in a very independent wand, and Unicorn Hair wands are very loyal and consistent."

She thinks on that for a moment while the tape measurer is measuring the length of her neck. Throughout this entire conversation, Ollivander has been taking down wands from shelves and stacking them haphazardly in front of her.

"Now, try this - Apple and Unicorn Hair, 10 1/2 inches. Nice and springy, just give it a flick."

Akantha stares at the wand that is now in her hand before waving it upward. Ollivander snatches it away almost immediately.

"No, that won't do," he muses, placing another wand in her hand, "Ebony and Dragon Heartstring, 12 1/4 inches, quite stiff."

Again, almost immediately after she tries the wand, it is taken away and placed disrespectfully on the floor. Wand after wand is tried, the disarrayed stack of wands on the floor spreading with each unsuccessful try.

"Hmm, how about this, Red Oak and Phoenix Feather, 12 3/4 inches, rather flexible and springy."

Akantha takes the wand, a warm glow spreading up her arm and waves it, with a bit more expression than with every other wand. It swishes downward, turquoise and silver sparks shooting out of the end, even catching some of the papers on the desk on fire.

Ollivander's eyes widen even further, and he rushes to pull out his own wand. "Aguamenti!" He cries, putting out the fire.

She coughs slightly, embarrassed. "Sorry about that, Mr. Ollivander."

"Ah, no, not a problem at all. One of the hazards of being a wand maker. Quite unusual, though," he says, half to himself.

Akantha pays her seven galleons and slips hurriedly out of the shop, gripping her new wand tightly and walking back to Gringotts and the floo.

"Rosier House!" she tells the emerald fire, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Once back in her house, she smooths her hair back down and looks into the irritated face of her mum.

"Did I do something wrong?" Akantha inquires innocently.

Iriel's mouth twitches into a hard line, "You antagonized Draco Malfoy within the first five minutes of meeting him. Narcissa Malfoy just floo'd me to complain about your behavior and how utterly inappropriate it is in pureblood society! We are not simple mud-muggleborns who don't know their manners."

"We just had a short conversation," she protests.

"If you just had a short conversation, why am I being told that we didn't raise you properly by one of the most influential women in the magical world?"

"For one, grandma raised me," Akantha retorts, "And for two, he probably didn't like me because I actually met his gaze and didn't kiss the ground he walked on."

"Akantha!" Iriel exclaims with a scandalized impression, "How dare you be so rude? Narcissa must've been right, being in France with your grandparents for so long taught you horrible manners. I should have taken over your training much sooner," she huffs.

"Oh yes, wouldn't want to forget my training towards becoming a brainless, polite, well mannered, good for nothing wife," Akantha says, the words coming out as though they were rehearsed.

"At this rate, you will never master the polite part. Are you saying the I am a good for nothing wife? That all your grandmothers before you were?" Iriel questions, incredulous.

"Well no, I didn't mean it quite like that - " she backtracks hastily.

"Then say what you mean!"

Akantha ponders the question, "It's just that you didn't marry papa because you loved him, did you? You married him because he was a respectable pureblood wizard, and he married you because you were a respectable pureblood witch. I don't want an arranged marriage, and I don't want to be married to someone just for my pure blood."

Iriel shakes her head sadly, "Akantha, darling, it doesn't work like that. Maybe for the...muggleborns, and half bloods, and blood traitors. But not for us pure bloods. We have to put ourselves second. Respectable blood is dying out, and we have to keep it alive. That means there isn't room for 'love'. If you can find a man you love, or at least like, then the more power to you. But it is not important factor."

"What if I want to put myself first? What if I don't care about whether my husband is a pureblood or not?"

"How could you not care?" Iriel asked, obviously confused.

"Because grandma didn't raise me that way," Akantha hisses, "It's different in France and Italy, you know. People actually care about feelings, not just about how pure someone's blood is."

"Don't tell me those lies; my mum raised me properly, and she said she'd do the same with you."

"Maybe 'properly' has a different definition there than it does here. How have you not realized that I'm not the same as all you blood purists? I read Muggle literature, I can't stand it when you call people mudbloods, I don't care whether someone's pureblood or halfblood or what, I care about them and their achievements! And yet you seem surprised when I say I don't want to marry someone for no better reason than to continue on the pure blood lines," Akantha says, drawing in a deep breath towards the end.

Iriel's face is completely hard. "Narcissa offered to help me out, you know. She said that as she has had practice with raising Draco and unlike me, doesn't work, she would be happy to give you some last minute training this month before you went off to Hogwarts. At first I thought it was all rubbish, and had simply been a misunderstanding, but now I see that she was right. I believe I'll be taking her up on that offer, so if I were you, I'd go start packing."

Akantha's is in shock, "Mum, no! You can't do that, you can't send me off to the Malfoys like that, you know how it's rumored they treat their son, torturing him."

"No family would do that to a daughter of theirs, let alone a daughter they had over as a guest of sorts," she says in a soothing tone, "Besides, those rumors are completely false. However, if you do not behave, you will be punished. You simply must learn how to fit in among Slytherin pureblood society. As it is, you do not have the control you need to survive in there."

Not having control? Please. Akantha had perfect control when she needed to, but often she didn't need to. "So, you just assume I'm going to be in Slytherin? No doubt about it? Well maybe I won't be! Hell, maybe I don't want to be!" Akantha shoots back, her voice turning colder by the second.

"Oh, please. You're a Rosier. There hasn't been a Rosier not in Slytherin for centuries. Trust me, you'll be in Slytherin, and you will end up happy about it."

_'Just for that, I'm going to try and get in a different house_,' Akantha thinks furiously. But of course, she doesn't say that out loud. "Whatever you say, mama," she says sarcastically.

Iriel points to the stairs. "Pack. Up to your room and pack for a month, and don't you dare come down until I've contacted Narcissa and have come to get you."

Akantha mutters, "Screw you, mum," but Iriel doesn't hear, so Akantha troops up the stairs looking dejected as can be. Once in her room, she can just barely make out Iriel's words from downstairs, talking to Narcissa via floo, but she couldn't hear Narcissa's responses.

"Yes, yes, you were completely right...yes, I'd love to take you up on your offer...as soon as possible, we simply haven't the time to waste, with Hogwarts starting up in a mere two months...tomorrow? Really, you'd be willing to do that that soon? Thank you so very much...yes, about 10 tomorrow morning sounds lovely, we'll see you then."

Dread settles in Akantha's stomach like a toxin. Tomorrow morning left so very little time to plan, but plan she would. First, though, packing was in order. Akantha lugs out her suitcase from the closet, folding and putting in the necessities first before shoving in all of the other optional things, including several books and her wand.

Finally, Iriel pokes her head in through the doorway. "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I expect you up by eight o'clock sharp," she tells Akantha before retreating.

**A/N: Mwahaha! Cliffhanger…ish? How many of you were expecting Akantha would get shipped off to the Malfoys, hmm? If you were, kudos to you, because I sure wasn't. **

**Also, those among you who are particularly attentive can hazard a guess at what house she will be in, but I haven't been exactly keeping it secret. We won't get to find out for another few chapters though – Akantha will be staying with the Malfoys. That will be fun.**

**2****nd**** to lastly, Akantha's cat needs a name! What's a good, evil, villainous cat without a good, evil, villainous name? I've been toying around with Lilith, but no decisions yet.**

**Aaand lastly, Akantha's wand. If anyone was wondering what Red Oak stands for, this is taken from Pottermore's official page on wand woods from Ollivander's PoV: "You will often hear the ignorant say that red oak is an infallible sign of its owner's hot temper. In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Less common than English oak, I have found that its ideal master is light of tough, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are, in my opinion, among the most handsome."**

**Okay, I lied about the last part. It was supposed to be the last part, but this is turning out to be a reaaaaally long A/N. So, I'm looking for a beta. I'm positive that I'll be continuing with the story, and since my friend no longer has time, I definitely need some help, so please let me know if you'd be interested in being my beta.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review, it makes my day!**


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